


a moment and a thousand years

by remy (iamremy)



Category: Mission: Impossible (Movies)
Genre: Cotton-Eye Joe is involved, Ethan disapproves of Will being an idiot, Hurt Will, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mild Angst, Some Humor, Will disapproves of hospital TVs and their limited options, discussions of mortality
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-18
Updated: 2019-03-18
Packaged: 2019-11-24 01:11:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,886
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18159491
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/iamremy/pseuds/remy
Summary: Will does something very Ethan-esque and earns himself a hospital stay. Ethan realizes he's not a fan of being on the other side of the equation, the one where he has to be the voice of reason. Also, Will's tired of M*A*S*H reruns, and that means he won't stop singing Cotton-Eye Joe.





	a moment and a thousand years

**Author's Note:**

  * For [SPNxBookworm](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SPNxBookworm/gifts).



> whoo, it's been a while! how are you all doing? man, i've missed writing these boys.
> 
> credit for this one belongs entirely to sanj, who wanted hurt/comfort. it was gonna be a lot angstier, i swear, but then cotton-eye joe happened. that song's been stuck in my head for hours now, fuck meeeeeee

“If it hadn’t been for Cotton-Eye Joe, I’d be married a long time ago… where did he come from, where did he go? Where did he come from, Cotton-Eye Joe—”

Ethan makes a frustrated sound in the back of his throat, and glares at Will, who appears totally unaffected. “Stop it,” he says.

“I could sing something else, if you wanted,” Will says after a moment.

“No, thank you,” Ethan says, and crosses his arms. First it was _Bohemian Rhapsody_ , with Will doing all the voices, and then it was an especially dramatic rendition of _Total Eclipse of the Heart_ , and now _Cotton-Eye Joe_.

He’s trying to be patient, he really is, but he hasn’t slept in about seventy hours, his ass is numb from sitting in a hard plastic chair, and Will, despite being confined to a hospital bed, looks like he’s having the time of his life. All right, that’s an exaggeration, but honestly, the singing is getting old. And the false cheer. And especially the pretending that everything is all right.

“Cheer up,” Will tells him, and has the audacity to smile when Ethan levels an incredulous look at him. “I’m fine, Ethan, honestly. You don’t need to look like someone died.”

“You almost did die, though,” Ethan points out.

“But I didn’t, so.” Will shrugs, and reaches for the television remote. “Do you think if I ask nicely, they’ll put on something other than _M*A*S*H_ reruns?”

“No,” says Ethan shortly.

“No?” Will looks disappointed, but only for a second. “Oh well. Netflix exists for a reason.”

“Seriously? This is your biggest problem right now? That there’s nothing good on TV?” Yeah, Will’s hurt, but God, Ethan wants to grab him by the shoulders and shake some sense into him right now.

Will shrugs again. “I mean. I’m bored, you know?”

“Oh, no, you’re bored.” Ethan’s voice is laced through with scathing sarcasm. “I’m so sorry recovering from near death experiences is inconveniencing you.”

“Would you prefer I lay about in bed and go on and on about how it was the only way?” Will asks, fixing a beady stare on Ethan, and _oh_. So that’s what this is all about.

“I don’t do that,” Ethan says after a moment, uncrossing his arms.

“Well, no, not exactly,” Will says, wry grin on his face. “But that’s what I hear when you talk.”

Ethan rolls his eyes. “Funny.”

Will just grins wider. “Seriously, though,” he says a moment later. “No chance of anything other than _M*A*S*H_?”

And just like that, the moment of levity is gone.

Ethan leans forward in the chair, and takes a moment to just… take everything in. Seventy hours it’s been, and Will looks a lot better than he had when he’d been admitted – skin flushed healthy instead of pale and sallow, and not so much blood, and he can move without pain now, can breathe without assistance, and he’s going to be okay. Some bed rest, a few weeks of leave, and he’ll be good as new.

And Ethan can’t stop seeing him bleeding out, gasping for breath.

“Will, this isn’t – please, stop doing that,” he says in the end.

“Doing what?” Will asks, deceptively innocent, even as his eyes scan over Ethan’s body, slumped in the chair, the expression of ragged despair on his face.

“Pretending this is nothing,” Ethan says, and Will goes still immediately. “Pretending you’re all right. Like you didn’t get shot in the fucking chest and almost _die_ on me.”

“I didn’t though, did I?” Will says after a moment, expression neutral, and it angers Ethan.

“How are you so casual about this?” he demands.

“It’s our job, isn’t it?” Will answers evenly. “And sometimes we get hurt doing it. Occupational hazard.”

“Occupational hazard—” Ethan repeats in disbelief, about three seconds away from tearing his hair out.

“Hey, it’s what you always tell me,” Will says, raising an eyebrow. “Isn’t it, Ethan?” he adds when Ethan doesn’t respond, just stares with his mouth slightly open. “That that’s just how things are with the lives we live? So why is it different for me?”

“Because—” Ethan pauses to collect himself. His thoughts are swimming about his head, refusing to congeal into something coherent, and meanwhile Will is just looking at him with that expression, _I can read you and I know exactly what you’re thinking_ , and it’s so fucking maddening, and even more so because he’s right.

“Because it’s _you_ ,” Ethan says finally. The despair has quietened some, shifted into something much more resigned. “Because it’s you, and I love you, and if anything happens to you I don’t know if I’ll survive it, Will. And I don’t want to find out.”

Will doesn’t say anything. His hand twitches where it’s lying on top of the painfully white sheets, but he doesn’t move it, and he doesn’t say a word. He just watches Ethan, waiting for him to go on.

Ethan collects himself, and does. “And I _know_ it’s the job. And I know your plan made sense. It was the only one we had. But I swear, Will, I swear my heart stopped. I’m not even exaggerating. And the next time you even consider using yourself as bait, or taking a bullet for me—”

“You’ll what?” Will interrupts. “You’ll _what_ , Ethan?” At Ethan’s silence, he just nods. “Exactly. There nothing you _can_ do, okay? I can’t stop you, and guess what, you can’t stop me either.”

“So what, you want me to just _deal_ with it?” Ethan snaps, unable to help himself. “Just be fine with the fact that you almost died?”

“Yes,” says Will bluntly. “Yes, that’s what I expect, Ethan, because guess what – I’ve had to come to terms with it too. Your hobby is risking your life and almost dying. I’ve spent more time watching over you in hospital rooms than I have in our bedroom, probably. You don’t get to do this, okay? You don’t get to act like I’m being unreasonable here.”

“That’s not what I mean,” Ethan says finally, and is not surprised that his voice breaks at the last word. “Will—” He stops again. There aren’t words, he thinks, for the ache in his heart, the pain in his chest when his brain even approaches the thought of a world without Will in it.

This time Will does reach out and take his hand. He squeezes it lightly, and then waits for Ethan to make eye contact before saying, “Look, Ethan, I’m probably going to die on the job. Maybe you will too. I don’t know. It’s definitely likelier than anything else. Worrying about it won’t change a thing, and we both know neither of us are gonna quit doing what we do. I’m tired of fighting about this. I’m tired of letting it take over the time we do have, you know?”

Ethan exhales slowly, turns over Will’s words in his mind. Will’s hand is warm in his, and if he moves his thumb he can feel Will’s pulse under it, strong, stubborn, beating in sync with Ethan’s own.

He considers it – the two of them, side by side, going down fighting. Blaze of glory. Saving the world one last time. And on the flipside – the two of them, side by side, gray-haired, in a picket-fence two-story somewhere, maybe with a dog. Maybe another evil cat that adopts Will. A Prius in the garage. The only knives in the house being used for cooking.

It doesn’t quite click. Will’s right, of course he is. That’s not them. It’s not what they do. They could never be happy like that, living that life, being those people. It’s just not who they are.

“Okay,” he says in the end, and squeezes Will’s hand back. He even manages a smile. “Okay, Will. But look,” he adds. “Next time you take a bullet for me, I’ll kill you myself.”

Will uses his free hand to flip Ethan off, but he’s laughing, and moving over on the bed to make space. “Come on,” he says, letting go of Ethan’s hand to pat the bed beside him. “Get in here. You look like shit.”

“Feel like it, too,” Ethan says, taking off his jacket and slinging it over the back of the chair before getting into the bed next to Will. “Going to take the world’s longest shower when I’m home.”

Will wrinkles his nose. “Yeah, probably for the best,” he says, and then grins at Ethan’s offended expression. “Hey, you said it, not me.”

“Bastard,” mutters Ethan, but he’s grinning too.

Will leans into his side when he’s settled, head resting on Ethan’s shoulder, and reaches over for the TV remote again. “Guess we’re stuck with _M*A*S*H_ ,” he says. Then he brightens. “Oh, hey, it’s almost 7! Now they’ll put on _Golden Girls_.”

Ethan laughs. “Well, at least you’re entertained.” He shifts a little, extricates an arm to wrap it around Will’s shoulders, and then says, quiet but determined, “And Will? Whatever comes next for us, whatever happens to us… I’ll take it. I’ll deal with it. But you have to be there, you hear me? You have to be there with me for it, because I can’t do it otherwise. I refuse to.”

Will melts into Ethan’s side, hair tickling the side of Ethan’s neck, and reaches up to intertwine their fingers. “Well, _yeah_ ,” he says, like it’s obvious. “Of course. Just because we’re probably going to die on the job doesn’t mean it has to be soon. Someone’s gotta keep our asses alive for at least a decade longer.”

Ethan laughs at that. “A decade? A shade too optimistic, don’t you think?”

Will shrugs. “Go big or go home, right?”

“Right,” echoes Ethan, still grinning. His heart feels settled now, calmer, the quietude in his mind taking on a peaceful quality. “Also, if you sing again, I’m murdering you myself.”

He feels more than sees Will grin, and waits for Will to retort, but Will remains quiet, letting his hand fall back into his lap again. _Golden Girls_ starts on the TV, and soon their attention is focused on that, and Ethan’s hand is tracing lazy circles into Will’s shoulder through the thin cotton of the hospital gown, and he can feel Will growing heavier against his side as he slowly drops into sleep, bit by bit, doing his best to stay awake but not really managing.

“I love you,” Ethan whispers, when he’s sure Will’s asleep.

“If it hadn’t been for Cotton-Eye Joe,” Will mumbles, and of course the fucker’s awake, and grinning. “I’d be married a long time ago.”

“Fuck you, I changed my mind,” Ethan says at once, but the fact that he’s laughing gives him away.

And yeah, Will’s alive, watching _Golden Girls_ and trying not to fall asleep on Ethan, and getting that fucking song stuck in his head is worth it, worth the feeling of Will’s skin warm under his fingers. A long life expectancy is overrated anyway, doesn’t matter for shit if it’s without Will. And if they’re together, even if it’s just for a few more years, then Ethan’s going to make sure every single moment is worth a thousand years.

(Just as long as there’s minimal singing involved. Fucking Cotton-Eye Joe.)

**Author's Note:**

> kudos and comments are much appreciated! also, if anyone else is now suffering from cotton-eye joe being stuck in their head as well, you have my most heartfelt apologies. let us suffer together.
> 
> love,   
> remy x


End file.
